Saturday, April 13, 2013

Milestones

They are coming too fast for this mama to handle well. Daughter and I spent a few days at her college campus. I feel a little better now, having seen the place and the people with whom she'll spend most of the next four years. She'll become an adult among these folks. Still, am I ready for my baby girl to be out in the Big World? Not really. I don't have a choice, though. This is how life happens.

Along our travels, we stopped at a bookstore. Daughter was off seeing what she wanted to see, and I found a shelf of lovely statues. My eyes came to rest of one of a mother cradling her little baby to her. The waterworks started all by themselves. I was trying to dab it away when Daughter found me.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

I gestured to the shelf. I really hadn't wanted her to see me like that.

"Oh, I know," she said, and gave me her sympathy look. I love her so. That week was spectacular. It meant so very much to both of us.

Tonight was prom night. Senior Prom. Another milestone. I remember mine, and it just doesn't feel like it was as long ago as it was. Yes, I'm waxing nostalgic lately. I'm a complete sap, but this is not news to you, dear Diary. It seems appropriate, then, that Daughter chose an entirely vintage look for her prom dress (hair, makeup, accessories, etc.). Very 1940s. I helped with her hair today, then she went to her friend's house to finish getting ready. They went as a group, which was nice. Dinner, the dance, then to another friend's house for movies.

Am I worried about what else might go on? Not a chance. These are the kids who spent their "skip day" playing board games.

As we were taking pictures of them tonight, Jacob nudged me. "Are you doing okay?" I've been sick, but that's not what he meant. He knows that my heart aches, though I try to keep it to myself.

Later, at home, he's slicing our single frozen pizza for dinner. His youngest is at her mother's this week. He put the knife down. "This is weird."

"What's that?"

"Here pretty soon, this will be how half our time is. One pizza. A couple of salads. Not the big dinners we've been used to doing."

Angella, thanks for that! It's a tough one for me. I keep looking around and imagining what my home will be like without laughing with her every day. Chokes me up. I know she needs to fly, but it's the flying away that's hard! As you well know!